


God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

by Ancient_K



Series: Good Tidings of Comfort and Joy. [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas, Chronic Illness, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Nightmares, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21951970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancient_K/pseuds/Ancient_K
Summary: He’s got both arms wrapped around Buck. Bucky’s head is resting on Steve’s chest and for a moment nothing exists but them and the lights. There’s no war going on, no pill bottles in a drawer, no burnt cherry pie, no nightmares, just the two of them on Christmas morning and a tree that twinkles like a thousand stars.Bucky's sick, him and Steve go look at Christmas lights.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Good Tidings of Comfort and Joy. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667395
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in the middle of the night after seeing a bunch of my neighbors christmas lights. I hope you guys enjoy.

They’re pressed up against each other when Steve wakes up. Bucky’s entire body is tense and soaked with sweat. His legs kick in his sleep, flesh fingers grabbing for a nonexistent something in the dark.

“Buck,” steve whispers. “Come on Buck wake up.” Steve moves to try and grab Bucky's flailing hands which is rapidly becoming more and more desperate to reach the invisible object. Buck’s whispering in a language that Steve doesn’t understand. 

When Steves finally manages to catch Bucky’s hand Bucky just stops. He goes completely limp except for his hand which grabs steve with a vice like grip. The breathy whispering has turned into incessant pleas. Buck shakes his head back and forth furiously and continues a desperate mantra. Steve wants so badly to understand what he’s saying.

“Come on Buck.” Steve talks softly into Bucky’s ear. Steves brushes the hair along Buck’s temple. It’s the place were life is so fragile and delicate. “Come back to me. It’s 2019, you’re in Brooklyn, you’re safe. You’re safe Buck.” Steve repeats his own little mantra to Bucky until it finally seems to breach whatever nightmarish haze he was in. 

The nightmares had dwindled since the beginning but they haven’t stopped. They were no longer the screaming and thrashing in the middle of the night, Buck waking up unable to breathe, the hours it would take to calm him down. Now they were quieter, barely perceptible even. But they still happened.

Some of the reason for the decline in night terrors is all the meds he’s on. The collection of pastel capsules that Buck dry swallows every morning and night have helped reduce the constant inability to sleep and the nausea that often followed. They’re designed for supersoldiers. In their kitchen cabinet are bottles of antipsychotics, painkillers, sleeping pills, and what feels like a thousand other things that’s supposed to help Bucky’s slowly breaking body. 

Decades of torture had broken down Bucky’s body. Everytime that Buck vomits up a meal of plain toast or wakes up, not having a clue as to what year it is, Steve wants to kill every member of Hydra all over again. 

“Steve?” Bucky looks up at him, eyes half open.

“Ya, it’s Steve.” He runs a hand along Bucky’s back. He can feel the knobs of his spine through the sweater that Buck always insists on wearing. 

An hour later they’re still in the same position. They’re curled into each other, knees knocking against each other and foreheads just barely brushing. Neither of them are asleep. Steve’s wide awake now, the sounds that had seemed muted and hour ago blare like car horns in his ears. The radiator whirling to life, people talking outside, the wail of a distant police car. Buck’s awake too.

“Remember when Becca and I tried to bake that pie for Christmas?” Bucky’s voice is soft and scratchy. “We burnt the whole thing. You’re Ma thought it was hilarious.” His laugh turned into coughing and Steve winced at how long it took to subside. “You ate it anyway though,” Buck continued “You said it was the best damn cherry pie you ever tasted.”

“Wasn’t lying you know.” Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. Steve’s Ma had laughed and laughed when Bucky and Rebecca took the smoking pie from the oven. She’d then took a knife and showed the two siblings how to cut off the burnt edges of the pie. The entire house smelled very vaguely of smoke but that was one of the few Christmas dinners that Steve could remember were there was nothing but laughter. There were no empty place sets and nobody was so drunk that they started hitting people. All Steve remembered was his Ma’s laugh and the way that Bucky tied all of his sisters braids off with bright red bows. It truly was a lifetime ago.

“Get up” Bucky said abruptly.

“What?” For a second Steve’s heart started pounding. Was something wrong? Was he ok? But Bucky had a mischievous grin on his face and a look in his eyes that Steve hadn’t seen since Bucky and Dernier were tasked with exploding part of a building during the war. 

“We’re going out.” Bucky announced as he grabbed Steves arm and tugged him out of bed.

“Buck it’s three am.”

“And? You want to go see some lights, don’t you?”

Steve was about to protest. He opened his mouth to say that they should go back to bed and just watch a move so that Buck could rest but instead he found himself lacing up his boots while Bucky threw a thick jacket over the multiple layers he was already wearing. 

The layer of snow on the ground made a loud crunching sound as him and Buck stepped outside and made there way to the car. They’d both dissolved into giggling messes, high off the idea that it was three in the morning and they were leaving the house to go look at some Christmas lights. It reminded Steve of when him and Buck were teenagers, pushing through the crowd to look at the gigantic tree in Rockefeller Center. 

Steve and Bucky had gone ice skating at the rink one year during the 40’s. They’d brought some girls but all Steve could remember about them was that one of them had a face full of freckles. He more of remembered the way Buck had glided across the ice like he was born to do it. He held Steve’s hand, guided him through groups of kids and couples while Steve struggled to stay upright. Steve probably fell about twenty times on that rink but each time Bucky was there, checking him over and helping him back to his feet.

The radio had been playing Christmas music all day and the two couldn’t hold back their smiles when an old song came up on the drive there. If Steve concentrated hard enough he could picture Bucky singing along to a staticky radio in their drafty apartment.

Christmas in New York City is beautiful. The place is already lit up year round with flashing signs and the glowing light from people staying up late in their apartments but on Christmas the world becomes a light show. People have hung red, green, white, and every other color from their balconies. Some of them flash to look like dripping blue icicles while others are fashioned in the shape of holly leaves and snowmen.

The tree in Rockefeller Center is somehow both very different and the exact same from what Steve remebres. It’s a lot bigger now, with more lights and ornaments but the majesty and wonder that surrounds it is still the same. They keep it lit the entirety of Christmas Day. 

It’s four in the morning and Steve and Bucky are sitting on a bench gazing at a glowing christmas tree. Buck’s got on a thousand different layers while Steve hasn’t been able to feel the cold since he woke up from the ice. He’s got both arms wrapped around Buck. Bucky’s head is resting on Steve’s chest and for a moment nothing exists but them and the lights. There’s no war going on, no pill bottles in a drawer, no burnt cherry pie, no nightmares, just the two of them on Christmas morning and a tree that twinkles like a thousand stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment any grammar mistakes/typos that you see. 
> 
> Happy Holidays!


End file.
